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^000088Young Adventurer's Journal^000000

^778899Chapter 1: The Curse^000000

3.
Kshar was standing in front of the entrance to the giant Sphinx in Morroc, running over 
what he could remember from what had happened three days ago. He recalled making a toast 
with Aher, wishing him luck on his pilgrimage to become a Lord Knight, but nothing else. 
He had to stay in bed for two days from all the alcohol he drank. This was especially 
unusual since he always refused to drink or smoke. He didn't want to risk hampering 
his balance or sense of smell to detect poison, so he never even went out with 
his comrades for a casual drink. This was actually his first hangover.

"Whoa, you look pretty nauseated. Have you been drinking? I thought you didn't do that 
at all."
Kshar didn't even look up. That was Esmir's voice, calm and slightly high pitched 
as usual. Just one of the guild's leaders, showing his concern.

"Oh, you're definitely hung over. Huh. I never thought I'd see this. Still, it's good to 
see that you have your off days too."
Ziklein. Another guild leader come to check up on him. Kshar shrugged in an effort to show 
that he was okay, and then took a deep breath. He was such a fool to try to keep up with 
Aher's drinking. His superiors were here now, and he should give them whatever attention 
he could muster. However, they didn't seem to notice he was capable of listening.

"I thought he just got his assignment two days ago. Do you think he'll be alright?"
"Oh, yeah. So he went drinking, even though he's got a job to do? Pretty gutsy."
"Hey, Esmir. Aren't you supposed to help Kshar in his assignment?"
Esmir shrugged at Ziklein. He didn't know much about it. Ziklein started explaning 
Kshar's mission from the guild master to Emsir. They were still talking 
as if Kshar couldn't hear them, and this made him furious.

Kshar looked up to the sky. The sandy winds should have blocked his view, but he could see 
that it was crisp and blue. The deepness of the color brought his mind into focus. 
He was sober now, even if he did have a pounding headache. 

"Aaaaaaaaahhhh!"

Kshar screamed to the sky (it was probably a powerful kihop or a scream of rage--it was 
hard to tell), and then ran straight into the dark mouth of the Sphinx. He'd been in there 
so many times that he could navigate its maze with his eyes closed. He worked on reflex 
alone, slashing nearby Drainlairs and wandering undead slaves as he sped past them.

"This mission is so stupid! We get enough burial accessories from the Assassin test 
applicants! I don't see why he wants more of these!" Kshar slashed the throat of 
the Requiem attacking him behind from his right Katar. 
"Even if we did need more of this junk, the rookie Assassins could handle this! 
I should be working on something more important!" Kshar's angry thoughts throbbed through 
his mind in tune with his headache. He spied a Zerom, kicked open its box, and then split 
its head open and stabbed an approaching Drainlair with the same Katar 
in one fluid motion. The monsters lay still on the stone floor in a puddle of their dark 
blood.

Outside, the two senior Assassins were chatting.
"Why does the Guild Master pick on Kshar like this? I mean, that guy is cream of the crop. 
Even he doesn't like Kshar, he shouldn't be assigning these kinds of missions to him."
"Esmir... The master has got it all planned out. Haven't you ever wondered how Kshar 
got so strong so quickly? He wants to prove to the master that he can do anything 
the master asks of him. Sure, Kshar's angry as hell, but the Guild Master is motivating 
him in his own way. You'll see what I mean..."